As we navigated the swarming crowds, John was accidentally knocked by a large and bright pink dolphin balloon. Even as an adult, sexually-active, homosexual man, he said that it was the gayest thing that had ever happened to him.
As the car rounded hairpin turns and glided past unguarded drops, we contemplated our mortality and considered the eventuality that the last sound we might hear in our short lives could be the jubilant melody of Germanic Ducktales.
I had entertained the thought that being cloaked in the appropriate apparel would make me feel more involved, when in fact I felt far more self conscious and fraudful.
Being alone, I stood to the side and took some photographs, but my alabaster skin betrayed my clandestinity and a couple of merry folk gave me high-fives.
Received wisdom about bear encounters conflictingly suggests running, standing one’s ground, or playing dead; a selection that seems fatally incompatible.